


War Strategies

by Joel7th



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, Crack Pairing, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Humor, Joachim is a little...unhinged, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rare Pairing, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, implied Joachim Armster/Walter Bernhard, mention of Joachim's past, mention of Walter Bernhard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-06-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:13:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24334918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joel7th/pseuds/Joel7th
Summary: What if Joachim Armster had survived the events of Lament of Innocence and was now a member of Dracula’s war council? And he had his eyes on a certain Devil Forgemaster with silver hair.
Relationships: Joachim Armster/Hector (Castlevania)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

It was bloody noisy.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, feeling mildly annoyed by his breastplate digging into his flesh, Joachim scanned the vast throne room. From his vantage point he was able to get a good view of the crowd. The majority of them was made up of the uniformed soldiers who all looked like they had come from a single, boring mold. The cowls that obscured half of their faces certainly did not help in distinguishing them from their next brother. Joachim supposed that was the point: foot soldiers did not need a face, for they were not so much individuals as cells in a body that served their master’s will.

At the head of the body was a motley group of vampires. Like Joachim himself, they were distinctly dressed, their outfits and accessories shouting out to the cultures from which they hailed. Despite his accumulated knowledge, he failed to identify every ethnicity present; all he could tell was that the two females and one male who weren’t plagued with the deathlike pallor of vampirism must have come from the far, far East. It seemed Dracula had indeed succeeded in assembling a truly diverse group of generals, something Walter had never managed to back in the day.

They were mostly responsible for the noise and his subsequent migraine. Maybe it was his age catching up to him, causing him to be hypersensitive to strong stimulations; maybe he had been too accustomed to the quietude enclosed within the stone walls of his lair that the exposure to noise was really grinding his nerves. Were it his castle and these vampires his vassals, he would gladly skewer them just so they would shut their traps. Alas, Castlevania was Dracula’s and Joachim Armster, despite being the oldest bat in the lot, was as much a guest as the rest of those vampires. In that aspect they were considered ‘equals’, and although he might be relatively unhinged, he could indeed afford to be civil. Still, that didn’t mean he would get along or find any common ground with them.

The latter, quite literally.

“Oy, pretty boy over there.”

A booming voice bludgeoned his reverie. Joachim steered his faraway gaze back to the group of colorful vampires and zeroed in the redhead — Godbrand, was it? — who was crossing his arms in front of his bare chest. His fiery unkempt mane reminded the ancient vampire of a certain someone, which added another reason to Joachim’s instant dislike of him, beside his boisterousness and flair for wild gesticulations.

“You mean me?” Joachim asked, not bothering to mask the boredom in his tone.

“Yes, you, who else’s flapping around like a pair of drawers on a drying pole?”

Joachim sniggered, uncrossing his arms to cross them behind his back and lowering his body to be at eye level with Godbrand and the rest. Still, he kept his feet above the ground and his distance from them. “My sincere apology if you find it disturbing,” he said, as sincerely as a priest who was telling a headsman to have mercy on the condemned.

“I’m not disturbed. I’m annoyed that some fresh-faced vampire is flaunting his little tricks in front of us.”

Joachim graced him with a tight-lipped smile that definitely didn’t reach his pale eyes. “You must excuse me. Where I came from, the vampires have long renounced the act of letting our feet scrape against the ground, deeming it vilely human.”

Godbrand scoffed and a couple vampires in the group threw Joachim a cold glance, which he promptly ignored. He knew he had vexed them and couldn’t bring himself to care. None of them had captured his attention, all dull-looking, impassive vampire faces which he would likely forget the moment they were out of his sight, and that didn’t exclude the three exotic ones from the East. If they wanted to round on him, he would be glad to take them on at once. He would have a flawless excuse to dice them then, wouldn’t he?

“And where did you come from?” Godbrand asked, once again disrupting his flow of thought. “Because I have never seen you around here.”

“Oh? You must be around here a lot.”

Godbrand huffed. “Not just me but every other general. No one knows where you’re from or what the heck your name is.”

Joachim giggled, earning a frown from a heavily robed female vampire, and gave a mock curtsy, his feet still several feet above the floor. “My apologies,” he said, bowing his head briefly, “allow me to introduce myself. I am Joachim Armster. I came from a faraway land, where my humble abode lays deep in the embrace of the gnarled trees and the eternal night.”

Godbrand raised his bushy brows in a crossbreed between confusion and annoyance. “The heck does that mean?” he spat.

“It means I am but an obscure recluse who is not worth your attention,” Joachim replied with an airy tone.

“How come the Count was able to dig you out of your hole?”

“You know him. He has a knack to sniff out the bizarreries in life. I heard some rumors that there were two humans amongst us.”

Godbrand scoffed derisively. “Not rumors, there _are_ humans in this castle. The old bat might have lost it when he appointed his food as his generals.”

A smile crept up Joachim’s lips and the gray in his irises shifted to a glowing red. He inhaled lengthily, feeling the warm, familiar tendrils coiling around his core. Arousal, he realized. It had been a while since he last got singed by its flare. Being intrigued had surely stoked its embers.

“They have been willingly participating in their own kind’s annihilation. You don’t think they are qualified for more than just food?”

Godbrand stared at him for a good five seconds. “Maybe they have a few loose screws in the head, who knows,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Doesn’t change the fact that their necks are fucking susceptible to bites.”

Joachim chuckled to himself but made no reply. Having witnessed with his eyes how thorough the man who would later become Dracula had been, Joachim was fairly sure he wasn’t the type to bring a pair of lambs into the wolves’ den without any insurance against the very probability that they could be chowed down. In fact, it would be fascinating to see what he would do if any harm came to his humans. After all, hadn’t he started a genocidal war to avenge one of them?

Joachim smelled them before his mind registered their arrival. It was impossible not to, for his supernatural senses were inherently seduced by the scent from living veins, sharp and clear like a full-bodied vintage despite layers of dampening garments. Tantalizingly alive in its human character, the scent dangled above a sea of cold, dead bloods, stagnant in fossilized veins, and taunted his teeth to seek its source and rip it apart.

His previous arousal returned twofold and for a moment, Joachim yielded to its allure. Inside his mouth his fangs elongated until they threatened to pierce his flesh. He let them, relishing the astringent taste wrapping around his taste buds. He hadn’t been thirsty before; now his parched mouth craved a sip of hot sweet blood, preferably delivered in a swan neck, perfumed and pliant to his clawed fingers. Noises rose, snapping Joachim out of his trance. He wetted his lips, breathing through his mouth in hope to disperse the rich, cloying smell in his nostrils.

Aristocrats or soldiers, his fellow vampires didn’t have the same level of restraint, and Joachim watched them hiss and bare their teeth like starving animals at the human who had just entered the throne room. The man kept his head high and his spine straight, hands clasping behind his tall back as he made his way to the throne and stopped before it. His dark gaze swept over the menacing vampire generals as well as Joachim as if they were mere pieces of broken furniture before focusing on the empty ornamented chair. His browned-skinned face, beautiful in its indifference, and the vigorous beats behind his sternum held the ancient vampire captivated until the second sets of footsteps rose above the din.

The second human entered not too long after the first. Although his steady gaze and his lips set in a determined line as well as his confident gait painted a picture of calmness, his slightly increased heartbeats betrayed a hint of anxiety. It was but a tiny irregularity and Joachim wondered curiously if any vampire here beside himself was able to detect it.

When their eyes met across the throne room, the vampire heard the human heart skip a beat and smiled. His own heart would have done the same, provided it wasn’t particularly dead behind his rib cage.

His castle, once belonged to Walter, hosted a melange of night creatures, and amongst which was a peculiar doppelgänger. If he hadn’t locked the mischievous thing with a binding spell to ensure they stayed behind and watched their home, he would be convinced that they had tagged along and were now playing their usual party tricks right in the heart of Dracula’s castle.

However, no matter how flawless a facade the doppelgänger could pull off, they would never be able to recreate a human’s heartbeat and the intoxicating aroma of his warm blood. That, Joachim was deadly sure.

So, a real human, not a doppelgänger, who was wearing a face that resembled Joachim’s own so much they might as well be long-lost siblings.

Except Joachim’s siblings, if he’d had any — his memory had become quite muddled, courtesy of a certain Walter Bernhard, must have all turned to ashes and dirt.

So very interesting.

“Oy, pretty boy,” Godbrand said, laying an unwelcoming paw on Joachim’s shoulder, “looks like we’ve found your twin. Too bad he’s one step from becoming snacks.”

Joachim smiled at the Viking vampire, flashing his full-grown fangs, and brushed his paw off his shoulder. “If only,” came his cryptic reply.

Perhaps this trip to Castlevania might prove to be not a waste of time after all.

_To be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slender form, shoulder-length silver/white hair parted in the middle, doesn’t Joachim look like a pale-skinned Hector? And yes, that serves as an inspiration for me to write this story.


	2. Chapter 2

“Godbrand, you’ve never met anything you didn’t immediately kill, fuck or make a boat out of.”

Joachim chuckled to himself in recollection while he floated along the seemingly endless corridor to Dracula’s private study, the swoosh of air through his silver strands being the only sound to disturb the sepulchral silence.

Although he had cackled at the merciless dressing-down the human had delivered to Godbrand, Joachim couldn’t defend the glaring flaw in its logic: after all, the Viking vampire had met all of them, Joachim, his fellow vampire and human generals and even Dracula, and yet he had not killed, fucked or made a boat out of any of them. Joachim would love to see him try; whether kill, fuck or make a boat, it guaranteed to be one hell of a lot of fun.

Definitely more fun than listening to the vampires spewing their discontent over Dracula’s controversial decision.

Appointing the sole humans in the castle as the heads of his crusade was an unpredictable, yet also unsurprising, move Joachim had not anticipated. He supposed Dracula had had his reasons, which he had not deigned to share with the rest of his court and thus, caused an uproar.

Joachim had exited the throne room when the noise became too grating, too overwhelming. He had little interest in the war with humanity, and even less interest in who was going to lead it.

He had more fascinating matters in mind.

Joachim arrived at Dracula’s study to find the two human generals at the entrance, having just finished a talk with their master and were getting to leave. The older, sterner-looking man gave him a onceover, his russet eyes harboring as much enthusiasm as before, which was close to none. The younger one, whose olive skin and rhythmic beats in breastplated chest had had him magnetized, demonstrated a strange curiosity in his blatant scrutiny of the vampire’s booted feet, hovering above the ground. Joachim flashed them both a fanged smile, gray eyes narrowing into slender crescents.

“Isaac and... Hector, right?” Joachim asked, gesturing vaguely between the duo.

“Yes,” the silver-haired one, Hector, replied, looking up from Joachim’s feet to look slightly askance at him.

Ah yes, the usual distrust for someone who did not _stand_ his ground, Joachim was used to that.

“Lord Dracula did not summon you,” Isaac said, flat-toned.

Joachim shrugged, the smile still clinging to his lips. “I need not be summoned, need I, Dracula?”

“Let him in,” a voice rose from the inside, sounding too tired to belong to a powerful vampire monarch, “before he throws a fit.”

“It wounds me to know you think so lowly of me,” Joachim said, pouting at air.

Isaac wordlessly moved from the door and strode down the corridor. Hector looked momentarily hesitant before making to follow his colleague.

The second Hector turned on his heels, Joachim pressed himself against his back, sniffing a lock of silver hair at the side of his face. “You smell good,” he whispered, voice so soft it would be inaudible if his lips were not right next to Hector’s ear.

He would smell even better without the high collar in the way, Joachim mused. Dracula was wise to have given the Forgemasters those rigid armors.

When Hector swerved his body sharply around to glare daggers at him, Joachim was already back at his original spot, hands behind his back and a smirk painted on his face. “Off you go,” he urged with glee and floated into the open door instead of waiting for the human’s reply, if he had any at all.

It was a medium-sized study, with a fireplace burning in a corner. Dracula sat in an armchair, his head propped up by one arm and his eyes staring into the fire, which cast an orangish hue on his face.

He looked like an imposing statue being very still like that, and Joachim was reminded of how he had caught Walter in similar state several centuries ago. The side effect of aging, his sire had said, brushing the matter aside without providing further explanation. Joachim had not dared to raise the question again.

“Why did you come here, Joachim?”

“To have a casual chat with an old friend, what else,” Joachim replied, floating to Dracula’s side and resting a hand on the edge of his chair.

“You know that is not what I am asking.”

“How rude,” Joachim commented, tapping a long nail on the wood to a rhythm only he knew. “You should at least offer me a drink before starting to interrogate me. Surely you were aware that I came a very long way.”

“There is a fifty-year-old vintage on the opposite shelf,” Dracula said with a sigh. “Help yourself.”

Humming softly, Joachim held his palm up in a beckoning gesture. From the shelf a bottle and a crystal goblet flew out, floating in the air. “A drink?” he asked, fingers wriggling. The bottle uncorked itself and filled the goblet with dark red liquid that could almost pass for blood but for its viscosity.

“No.”

Joachim sniffed the content of his goblet and took a measured sip, sloshing the liquid in his mouth before swallowing, savoring the pleasant burn down his throat. “A real shame,” he lamented. “Even though I am no wine connoisseur, I can tell this is rather good. Still, I prefer something a little thicker.”

“There is fresh pig blood in the basement. Tell any soldier and they will get you some.”

Joachim swirled his goblet, studying the motion of the liquid as he spoke, “So it is true that you plan to wipe out all of humanity.”

Dracula turned his head to look at him for the first time since Joachim entered the room. “You have not suddenly developed compassion for humans, have you, Joachim? Because that would easily be the most outrageous thing I have heard for centuries.”

Joachim scoffed. “Humans are our vital nutrition source. Without them what would we feed on?”

“Vampires can digest animal blood just fine.”

“True, but us drinking animal blood is no different than a man eating moldy bread and spoilt meat. Weaker and weaker we will grow, until we become husks of ourselves.”

Dracula’s eyes moved from Joachim’s face to the logs crackling in the fireplace as he withheld his reply.

“I can tell it is not your concern,” Joachim said, tracing the intricate gold carvings on his goblet with a finger. “It is not mine, either. I could not care less if humanity were to be wiped clean from this Earth, but I need your word on one thing: I want none of your creatures or generals on my territory.”

“You strutted into my house uninvited and now you are making demands. Such audacity,” Dracula said in even tone, his eyes never moving from the fire. “What if I refuse? Do you intend to fight me?”

Joachim tilted his head and leaned in. “I have humans in my territory and they never played a hand in your precious wife’s murder, far removed from the rest of the world as they have always been. Yes, I am ready to fight you if needs be. It is a lord’s duty to defend his land, is it not?”

“You think you can win against me? Do you need a reminder that you lost against Walter?”

“Don’t spit his name,” Joachim snapped, eyes glowing and nails raking the back of Dracula’s chair, splintering the wood.

“Still a sore spot?”

“It had not been a fair fight and you know it.”

“All I know is that you would have rotten in that water cage but for _his_ mercy.”

Joachim huffed, clenching his clawed hand into a fist. “True, and I owed him my life,” he said, voice hoarse. He inhaled deeply, trying to regain his state of calm. “I can tell from your sunken eyes that you have been starving yourself, Dracula,” he said. “This self-harming behavior baffles me and we both understand your strength is greatly diminished because of it. Meanwhile I am older and well fed. It will not be an easy fight, I assure you.”

“Indeed it will not,” he agreed without rebuke, to Joachim’s surprise. A long, pensive pause testing the older vampire’s patience before he resumed his speech, sounding tired beyond comprehension. “Fine. Your land will remain untouched. You have my word, Joachim Armster.”

“I did not expect you to be so... agreeable,” Joachim replied with a smile. “You have my gratitude, old friend.”

“We have never been friends.”

Joachim laughed out loud, tightening his grip on the goblet. The bottle shook in the air with his sudden outburst. “Have we?” he asked between laughter. “I am in pain. We shared a deep and personal history, did we not? I might even say our fates have been interwoven since you arrived at Walter’s lair, Mat—”

“Now that you have achieved what you came for,” Dracula cut him, “do you intend to pack and go home tomorrow at the first ray of moonlight?”

Joachim finished his wine and waved his hand for the bottle to float over and refill it. “I have to admit, it was ennui that drove me out here. It is safe and comfortable in my castle but were you not the one who told me that perhaps I should get out sometimes?”

“Careful, Joachim, or you may turn into a second Walter.”

“My hatred for him runs too deep for me to become him, rest assured. Besides, I believe I have found something truly captivating in your war council.”

Dracula let out a small snort, the first sound to indicate his emotions throughout their conversation. “One of the generals? I find it hard to believe you would take an interest in any of them. Do you not have a whole assembly of vivid night creatures to choose from back in your castle?”

“Perhaps, but there has never been a human in my court, let alone a Devil Forgemaster. They sure are a rare species. One of the few true wonders in the world.”

“You would do well to tuck your fangs and claws away from Isaac and Hector,” Dracula growled.

Joachim giggled, his shoulders shaking. His half-finished wine threatened to spill. “Quite protective, are we? In our long acquaintance I have never seen you get your feathers ruffled when someone other than your wife is threatened.”

“They are the most valuable assets to this war and I need them.”

“You will not need them once it is over,” Joachim said, sipping the red liquid in his goblet, imagining it was blood. Hector’s blood, warm and heady as its exquisite taste enveloped his tongue. “You intend to kill all humans. When the war ends, will you kill them also?”

“I intend to let them live.”

“Alone and unloved in a desolate world until they succumb to the years and their bodies become food for maggots? How cruel. Even I would not subject my worst foes to such a fate.”

“Isaac has made peace with it, and Hector...”

He trailed off, stiffening in his uncertainty. Joachim grinned at the visible shift. “My oh my, what have you done, Dracula?”

Silence was the only answer he could pry out of the vampire lord.

“You would not mind if I stayed for a while and seduced your pretty human boy, would you? I find myself gravitating toward him right from the moment I saw him in the throne room, wearing a face that might just belong to my twin. Perhaps he could be my descendant by a strange twist of fate.”

“That does not stop you from lusting after him? Sometimes I wonder if I have underestimated the depth of your amorality.”

“I harbor no desire to abuse him, in case you are concern. Nor do I have any use for his talents; my place is already teeming with night creatures. My interest in his person, I dare say, is pure.”

Dracula let out a soft sigh that indicated neither approval nor disapproval. “Even if I told you to stay away from Hector, you would not listen.”

“No,” Joachim agreed, downing the rest of the wine. He snapped his fingers, and the bottle returned to its old spot on the shelf.

“Do as you please,” Dracula conceded, waving his hand, “as long as it does not interfere with the course of the war.”

“Oh, I may just count it as a blessing from the master of the house.”

“However, I _will_ intervene in the event that you force yourself on him,” Dracula warned. “Hector is a naive, unfortunate child. He does not deserve to be subjected to the depravity of our kind.”

Joachim stared at the sediment in his empty goblet with hooded eyes for a while. When he spoke again, it was with a measured tone, devoid of his trademark flair. “I am not Walter, and I never will be him.”

“Let us see if we could count on that” came Dracula’s reply.

_To be continue_


	3. Chapter 3

Hector, as he had expected, did not regard him with kind eyes when Joachim showed up at the entrance to his forge, a bottle of wine and two glasses floating beside him.

“What do you want?” Hector asked, washing his hands in a basin. The blood-splattered slab was empty, as was his forge. It seemed he had just finished today’s workload and was going to take a break.

Perfect timing, Joachim mused. He put on a smile, careful not to show his fangs, and said, “I want to apologize for my earlier behavior. It was inappropriate.”

Hector scoffed, carefully drying his hands with a towel. The boy had long fingers and his nails were kept very short, Joachim noticed, unlike his own. He wondered if Hector was averse to long nails. He would have to do something about his claws if he was.

“Two vampire aristocrats apologized to me, a mere human, in one night?” Hector said, moving to put away the towel and washbasin for the servants to collect. “Must be my lucky day.”

“The other was Godbrand, I suppose?” Joachim asked. “Well, vampirism does not negate manners.”

Hector didn’t look convinced but made no comment. He glanced sideway at the bottle and glasses. “What are those?”

“A bottle of wine and two glasses.” Joachim feigned ignorance, earning a scowl from the human.

“I have eyes to tell what they are. I just don’t get why you brought them here with you.”

“They are peace offerings,” Joachim replied, twirling his forefinger. The three objects circled his body like eager puppies. “You would not mind sharing a drink or two with me, would you?”

Hector watched the show with unblinking eyes. “How did you do that?”

Joachim graced him with another smile. “You have your tricks and I have mine. This is one of the gifts vampirism gave me, and just between you and me, it is quite rare even among vampires.”

“And this constant levitation... Is this how you’re flaunting your special gifts?”

“It is an old habit that refuses to die, just like myself,” Joachim replied, chuckling. “Now, will you invite me in or do you prefer us to have a conversation like this? Twelve feet apart because stranger, danger?”

“I’m not aware that we’re having a conversation.”

Joachim arched a comical eyebrow at his remark. He had bites, this boy. Not a cute, harmless puppy as his looks suggested. Then again Joachim shouldn’t be surprised. No one whose first impression included the use of “fuck” would be a cute, harmless puppy. “I have not been conversing with that stained slab, have I?” he asked, gesturing to Hector’s worktable. “Invite me in, pretty please?”

Hector stifled a laugh at his high note at the end. “I don’t own the castle so why don’t you just waltz in? Godbrand apparently didn’t need to ask for my permission.”

“Sure,” Joachim agreed, shrugging, “but this workstation is yours for the time being, and I will not just barge in. Like I said, vampirism does not negate manners, at least not mine.”

“Fine, come in.”

“Thank you.”

In the span of a finger snap, Joachim was in front of Hector, who looked at him with wary eyes as he handed him a glass.

“I dug this bottle out of Dracula’s cellar,” Joachim explained, uncorking the bottle with a wave of his hand and pouring each of them a glass. “The old bat has an impressive collection, with a few hundred-year-old bottles — I believe he might have forgotten and had left them down there to gather dust. For us I picked a moderate ten-year-old white, which would taste better chilled but I could not find a vampire wielding ice magic.”

Hector eyed the pale yellow liquid with a hint of suspicion before sipping it. “It’s good,” he commented. “Though I haven’t had much wine to make adequate comparison. I’ve always thought vampires preferred red wines because, well, they look like blood.”

Joachim took a sip from his own glass. “Sound logic but blood has unique allures that make wine a cheap imitation. The taste, the smell... they are all different.”

Hector’s brows furrowed. “Back in the corridor you said that I smelled good. You meant my blood, didn’t you?”

Joachim’s laughter startled him, deepening the frown. “Of course,” the vampire said, finding the crease between his silver brows rather cute. “Vampire senses are naturally geared toward picking up the scent of human blood, and yours and Isaac’s are _exquisite_ , probably thanks to the magical properties in them. You had every single vampire in the throne room aroused, just so you know.”

To Joachim’s pleasant surprise, a pretty pink dusted Hector’s cheeks, and it was definitely not because of the alcohol, as he had only consumed one third of his glass’s content.

“Including you?” he asked, timidity seeping into his tone.

“Alas I am but a slave to my primal urges. That is why I am here hoping to make amends.”

As if to prove his point, Joachim clinked his glass with Hector and drank it up. He then refilled it.

“Others don’t seem to share your sentiment,” he said with a tiny sigh. “It’s one thing to have them hiss and bare their teeth at me out of disdain, but to think they lusted after my blood...”

“Why are you surprised?”

Hector shook his head. “I suppose I shouldn’t be. Still, it’s hard to shake off the feeling of dread.”

“Then you would do well to keep your armor on,” Joachim said, tapping his sharp nails on the metal of his breastplate. “You are a lamb walking amongst wolves after all.”

Hector didn’t flinch as he stared at the vampire’s fingers — long and starkly pale against the dark material like a white spider’s legs. His eyes squinted at the blackened nails at the tips, and Joachim could sense a dozen questions in his lingering gaze, as well as his restraint to voice any of them. Too soon to probe into personal matters. Joachim felt the same. Instead he said, “Even when I’m with you, like right now?”

Joachim laughed, and Hector _did_ flinch. “Especially with me,” he drawled, eyes flashing red for a split second before returning to their normal gray. He was certain Hector had gotten his warning, for now he looked like a startled rabbit with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape.

Better get the boy accustomed to his antics one at a time.

Swirling his glass, Joachim waited for Hector to recoil and likely tell him to leave. He would oblige him, gaining his trust by first giving him some semblance of control over the situation.

Just like Walter had given him. The thought of that man quickly soured his mouth, all the more so when he realized that it had worked...

... _marvelously_.

Hector did no such thing. Instead he raised his glass and said, “I should thank you for your advice and also your candor.”

So, the boy valued candor, which shed some light on his personality and thinking. Joachim made sure to tuck this important detail in a safe place for future reference.

He recalled Dracula’s abrupt silence when he had spoken about Hector and briefly wondered what the deal between them had been, and whether it would be of any use to him. Perhaps he could find a chance to extract it from either of them.

“It is a grievous flaw of my kind to see a human as nothing but a walking blood vessel while they have so much more,” Joachim said, looking into Hector’s eyes and holding him with his gaze. It seemed to work. “Talents, a sharp wit, a clever tongue...”

The boy kept very still when his palm came in contact with his cheek. “A beautiful face with beautiful eyes,” he finished, savoring the humanly warmth on his skin.

He counted it a small victory when Hector didn’t bat his hand away or fight his cold touch, which he knew to be quite uncomfortable to a warm-blooded being.

“You think I’m-I’m beautiful?” Hector stuttered, bafflement, incredulity and insecurity all rolled into his barely audible volume.

“Why, of course. Has no one ever told you that you are extremely pleasant to the eyes? Some blushing village girl or buxom barmaid with a flirtatious streak? No?”

“I lived at the edge of the town, very quietly, and tried to minimize contact with the townspeople.”

In fear of angry mobs with torches and pitchforks and burning stakes, Joachim could easily fathom the reason.

“I am honored to be the first,” Joachim drawled, mapping Hector’s jawline with the pad of his thumb, careful not to cut smooth olive skin. The boy was well-groomed, another detail to note.

Should he lean in and claim his lips, because right now they were tempting him with their shape and their light rosy shade and gleaming sheen of moisture from the wine Hector had drunk? Was the timing premature and he would risk scaring the boy off because he had yet to learn whichever way he swung? He seemed to abhor neither a touch from the same sex nor his personal space being subtly invaded, but that alone wasn’t enough to determine if he would welcome and enjoy it the way an ancient vampire who had tasted every pleasure there was would.

A series of yips punctured the awkward bubble enveloping them. Joachim would be quite furious to have his moment shattered if he wasn’t saved from a potentially catastrophic decision. He looked away from Hector’s face and saw a small creature rushing to them on tiny paws.

“What is that?”

“A dog,” Hector answered with a roll of his eyes, as if he couldn’t believe this vampire had just asked an incredibly dumb question. “My dog. Come here, little Cezar.”

Joachim eyed the little black fur ball running to Hector’s side with its pink tongue lolling from its mouth and its single blue eye sparkling with enthusiasm. “So, a night creature,” he concluded. How fitting it was for Hector to have an undead animal as his familiar. While the thing didn’t look nearly as intimidating or useful as Joachim had expected a necromancer’s familiar should, its quirky appearance sort of made up for that. To each his own, he guessed.

“A dog,” Hector corrected him, putting his glass on the slab and crouching down to pet the creature’s head—skull. “He may look a bit different but he behaves just like any other dogs.”

“If you say so,” Joachim said, shrugging. His eyes wandered the room in search for nothing in particular. Then he found it: a piece of bone under the forging slab which must have belonged to a burst-open rib cage of some unfortunate corpse. The servants must have missed it when they cleaned Hector’s place.

“Does he play catch?” Joachim asked, holding his palm up for the bone to fly into it.

Hector looked up at him and blinked. “Yes,” he replied, “like any other dogs.” He nudged Cezar toward the floating vampire and watched with amusement as the pup jumped up and down, panting while trying to grab onto Joachim’s foot. His repeated failures didn’t deter him, and he would probably go on and on if Joachim didn’t fling the bone across the room. It hit the wall and bounced off, landing on the floor and immediately Cezar sprinted toward it.

Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Hector raised an eyebrow at Joachim and smiled, his point proven. The vampire grinned, not bothering to hide his fangs, and lifted Cezar up with his powers.

“No, not my face,” Joachim said firmly, holding Cezar at a safe distance when the pup attempted to lick him. “If I happened to drop him, would he perish like a normal dog?”

Hector stiffened and glared at him. “Don’t you dare!”

“Just pulling your leg,” the vampire sing-sang, bouncing the dog lightly. “I used to have dogs, you know. A whole pack of fierce, robust dogs which could corner and kill a wolf.”

“You did?”

“I found them to be most loyal companions. Still, after a while, I stopped having them in my place.”

“Why was that?”

“Their lives were too short,” the vampire replied in soft tone, petting Cezar’s head before gently lowering him on the ground. The pup whimpered, already missing his ministrations. “How long will your creatures live?”

“As long as I do.”

Joachim hummed happily. “Perhaps next time you could show me how your gifts work.”

“Next time?” Hector parroted, somewhat incredulously.

“Of course there will be a next time. I enjoy talking to you. I wonder if you share my sentiment.”

“I...” A moment of hesitation, as if he was choosing what to say. “You’re the one I’ve talked to the most since I got here.”

Joachim allowed a triumphant smile to creep up his lips. “Well, it has been a pleasure talking to you, Hector,” he said, slowly floating to the entrance. “I am looking forward to our next conversation.”

“Wait,” Hector called after him, prompting Joachim to halt and turn back. “I haven’t learned your name.”

“Oh right, we have missed the initial introduction,” Joachim said, tapping a finger on his temple. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Joachim Armster.”

“I’m Hector, but you’ve already known.”

“No last name?”

Hector shook his head, his gaze lowered as if ashamed. Joachim would like to know why.

Perhaps next time.

“Sweet dream, Hector.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Joachim vanished from the Forgemaster’s sight.

He purposely left the glasses and the wine in his forge.

_To be continued_


	4. Chapter 4

Godbrand was in some sort of a dilemma.

Contrary to common belief, Godbrand actually understood the meaning of the word — in fact, he was considered quite erudite by Viking standard — and to describe his current situation, he believed it was the best choice.

He had been feeling thirsty and had gone down to the wine cellar in search of something for his dry throat; Dracula possessed an impressive collection, or so he heard. Indeed he had gotten lucky and managed to dig out a possibly ancient bottle from the bottom shelf. Well, if the old bat had left it there to gather dust, he would likely not miss it.

So Godbrand had gone ahead and chugged down the whole thing.

Dropping the empty vessel on the floor, Godbrand plopped himself down on a chair, putting his feet on the table.

Thing was, his thirst wasn’t quenched; in fact, it had become a scorching sensation that ran along his throat down to the center of his chest. That was when he realized its nature and how to soothe it.

Blood, searingly sweet, rushing in pulsating arteries, not stagnant old wine sealed in equally old bottle. He wasn’t picky about the source; a meek village girl, a reeking stable boy, a sweat-drenched, soot-covered blacksmith or a powdered harlot, he didn’t care as long as they had a pliable neck he could sink his fangs into, have his fill and then rip apart. His mind conjured up a face with smooth olive skin and sharp angles and Godbrand experienced a mini-orgasm just imagining the taste of those veins. Come to think about it, he had never drunk from a Devil Forgemaster before, rare species that they had always been.

That was where his dilemma began. The only humans in the castle were strictly off-limits, and the old bat would not take too kindly to any vampires taking a bite out of his pets, which was... understandable given how valuable their talents were to the war; they couldn’t be making and replenishing soldiers with their veins dry as husk, could they? Godbrand would be defending the two of them within an inch of his life if his war cripplingly depended on them, too. On the other hand, he doubted those men would gladly allow a vampire anywhere near their fragile necks — just look at their rigid collars, let alone take a sip. Therefore, if he craved blood, real human blood, he would have to go out and hunt, which was another big issue because Godbrand had no idea where the fuck he was! Dracula had moved them a couple hours ago — without notice he might add — and the castle had landed in the middle of fucking nowhere. The old bat, again, didn’t bother to inform them of their new location and when Godbrand raced to the top floor to survey his surroundings, all he saw was miles and miles of endless dense forest and not the slightest sight of human settlement. With them so far removed from humanity like this, Godbrand was willing to bet if he rode out to hunt and found his food, which depended on his wildly fluctuating luck by the way, he would not be able to return to the castle before sunrise. He suspected it was Dracula’s plan to get the vampires accustomed to animal blood, because right now, he was looking at a squirming pig in a soldier’s hand, and did the lousy fool really expect him, a proud Viking vampire, to eat it? He might not be picky about which neck he was going to chomp as long as it was human, but he wouldn’t stoop so low as to sink his precious, noble fangs into an animal like he too was some sort of animal without thinking, without dignity. Hah!

“Bring me real blood, not this shit,” Godbrand spat. “This you can keep for yourself.”

“But-but this is the Count’s order—”

Godbrand shushed him, wagging his forefinger. “Let me tell you this, boy,” he drawled. “Real vampires drink real blood, and by real blood I mean the red juice from human necks. Only that nourishes our strengths and keeps us alive.”

“I find myself in agreement with you here, Godbrand,” a third voice chimed in, deceptively young and so sickeningly posh Godbrand almost choked on his spits.

To his un-surprise, he saw the vampire Joachim at the top of the narrow stairs, hovering three feet above the ground because the fancy bastard didn’t want a single speck of dirt on his fancy boots — Godbrand didn’t buy his so-called ‘vampire customs’ one bit. He was too pale even by vampire standard, the yellow light from the torches along the wall failing to slap some color into his marmoreal skin, which brought to the Viking’s mind the image of a shrunken frost giant.

“There was a time when I had to survive on rat blood,” Joachim continued, hands behind his back as he made his gradual descent. “It was hell, you see, and while the blood indeed kept me alive, foul and disgusting as it was, the effect it had on my system was abysmal. Never again, I promised myself, and I have stayed true to that since.”

The casual camaraderie implied in his breezy tone contrasted heavily with the godawful experience he described. That, coupled with the half-smile that seemed to be ever present on his lips, created a dissonance which just rubbed Godbrand the wrong way. “What did you come here for?” he snapped.

Joachim jerked his chin slightly at the empty bottle by Godbrand’s foot and said, “The same reason which had brought you down to this cellar, to find something to quench my thirst.”

“If you mean booze, turn around and take the left turn. Dracula isn’t stingy with booze and it’s pretty much an all-you-can-pick. If you mean something else, me and this fella here have been debating what’s real blood and what’s not.”

“Ah, I was hoping to find a decent bottle and it appears I have come to the right place. However, right now I am feeling quite parched.”

He lifted a suggestive silver brow at the soldier and the half-smile stretched into a full grin. He licked his gleaming fangs in a half-seductive, half-predatory manner and Godbrand could see the poor fella squirming harder than the pitiful creature in his arms.

“If-If you want s-some, I can slit the pig’s throat and-and pour the blood out,” the soldier stammered.

“Did you not hear a word I had said?” Joachim said with a disappointed shake of his head. “Now, be a dear and put the goddamned animal down, will you? I would rather not have a smelly hog ruin my meal.”

“S-Sir, I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You do not have to,” Joachim drawled, red eyes shining brighter than the torches.

Godbrand was witnessing the strangest thing in his un-life.

The pig was dropped to the floor, letting out a pained “oink” as the vampire was lifted by invisible appendages. No sooner had he produced a startled cry, his feet dangling off the ground, than Joachim was on him, tearing his throat with fangs that specialized in biting through human flesh and tendons. The vampire fought at first, but held as he was by Joachim’s magic strings like a meat puppet, his struggles were in vain and soon died out. Joachim drank greedily, blood dripping from his beardless chin onto the soldier’s uniform. In the confined, ventless cellar, the slurping noises were eerily loud, coaxing Godbrand’s dead heart to thump sporadically against his eardrums. He wondered with a sort of morbid curiosity whether a vampire could be drained to the point of death.

Joachim released the soldier once he seemed to have drunk his fill. The body hit the cold, uneven stone with a thud and laid dead-still. Procuring a silk cloth from a fold in his garment, Joachim dabbled his lips and chin, digging the steel tip of his boot into the soldier’s side. It took a few seconds but the body finally moved. The poor fella scrambled to his feet, a gauntleted hand pressing down the side of his mangled neck, so painfully human a gesture. His dilated pupils brimming with unspeakable horror, he looked at the floating vampire, who was finishing his cleaning process.

“What are you waiting for?” Joachim asked with faux-innocent tone, blinking slowly. The half-smile had returned. “Leave, and bring the little piggy with you. I have no more need for the both of you, unless Lord Godbrand here also wants a sip?”

Godbrand scoffed at Joachim’s deliberate ambiguity, which scared the ever-loving shit out of the soldier and put him in a flee-for-life mode.

“The _hell_ just happened?” Godbrand asked, squinting his eyes at Joachim, who floated closer and put the Viking vampire infinitesimally on edge.

Joachim shrugged, head tilting like a naughty child caught red-handed. “I had a drink was what happened.”

“Don’t play dumb. You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Strangely enough, this is the second time I have heard that in the same night,” Joachim replied, tapping his chin with a finger. His nails, unlike a normal vampire’s nails, had a charcoal shade to them, Godbrand noticed. Was it purely aesthetic or something else?

“You drank a fucking vampire’s blood!”

Joachim didn’t even raise an eyebrow at his accusation. “Does that disturb you?” he asked. “Scares you perhaps? I am under the impression nothing scares a Viking vampire who has lived for hundreds of years and seen it all.”

Godbrand scoffed. “I have yet to witness vampire cannibalism despite the years under my belt. What an eye-opening experience.”

“You call it ‘cannibalism’ yet I do not recall devouring him and killing him. He left relatively unscathed, minus a couple pints of blood.”

“Still fucking cannibalism as far as I’m concerned. Why did you do that?”

“My thirst needed placating before I go and meet a certain Forgemaster. First impression is vital, you see. I intend to drink _with_ him, not drink him. I do not think I have enough time to hunt, seeing that we are stranded in the middle of nowhere.”

The candor in his answer caught Godbrand by surprise. “You could have just drunk the fucking pig,” he retorted.

It was Joachim’s turn to scoff. “It saddens me to know my deeply personal story has fallen on much deaf ears.”

“Wait, so it’s true that you once survived on rats?” Godbrand asked, scratching his nose. “How was that even possible?”

“Well, beggars cannot be choosers and it was either sucking rats or desiccating. Still, the point is not to invoke your tears, Godbrand, but rather to testify to the detrimental effects of prolonged digestion of animal blood. And so I was left with two alternatives. Rather him than you, right?”

Godbrand’s expression scrunched up and he banged his fist on the table, producing hairline cracks on the worn surface. “I would have been _happy_ to see you try.”

Rather than being intimidated by his threatening tone, Joachim only chuckled, which further irked the Viking. “It was only practical thinking, really. He gave off the scent of young blood who was newly initiated to the night — a decade, top — so he tasted slightly better than you anyway.”

Godbrand shot him an incredulous look.

“Oh, you did not know that?” he asked. “You did not, right. Vampire blood in general lacks the alluring sweetness of human blood, and the older the vampire, the more acrid the taste is to the tongue.”

“You speak as if you’ve sampled lots of vampire blood. Another vampire custom from where you came? How old is the oldest you’ve drunk?” Godbrand challenged.

“Ancient,” Joachim replied, eyes half-lidded like he was reliving a faraway memory. “I do not know the exact number but he was older than you and I could ever imagine. His blood was pure sulfur in my mouth when I gnawed his cold, dead neck. It burned and brought tears to my eyes.”

“What did you do? Spat it out?”

“I savored every drop of him.”

His jaws went slack and Joachim was sporting a look of absolute euphoria on his countenance. Were his blood hot and running like a human, Godbrand imagined the blushes would be glaring on his alabaster cheeks. Joachim was by no means a hideous creature, quite the opposite actually; his arousal would be an arousing sight but Godbrand found out it wasn’t always the case. Watching him, the Viking only felt uneasiness unfurl in his guts. His instincts told him to always keep his guard around this eccentric vampire, and that he should never be trusted.

Joachim snapped out of his short-lived trance soon enough. “Well, I would love to further our discussion until sunrise, Godbrand, but my night is already booked. Now, if you excuse me.”

Not waiting for Godbrand to reply, which he wouldn’t, Joachim floated to the direction of the wine cellar.

_To be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have already noticed, this took place before Joachim went to Hectos’s forge in Chapter 3. 
> 
> Joachim is a cannibalistic vampire and this chapter, written in Godbrand’s POV because I like the old fool, shows a more disturbed side of him.


	5. Chapter 5

Where Joachim had once lived, long before the eternal night, long before Walter, there had been a saying, “When the sun rises, the night and her children go sleep.”

Right now, the sun was high in the sky, and yet Joachim, beloved child of night as he was, wasn’t in his bed.

Or coffin.

Joachim hadn’t brought his coffin with him to Castlevania, deeming it too cumbersome for such a fleeting trip, and now he regretted it. Sort of. Dracula was an agreeable host and naturally, he had had rooms prepared for an influx of long-term guests. Joachim had specifically asked for the room just conveniently adjacent to Hector’s forge, and his choice had caused a serious eye roll from the servants because what kind of vampire could sleep with such infernal noises of hammering and beastly screeches? To each his own, he had told them, grinning as he entered his lair for the time being, his few belongings trailing after him like loyal hounds. In his room there was a spacious, velvet-lined coffins not unlike the one he had at home, which promised an average vampire a death-like sleep and yet Joachim had barely made use of it. He had touched it once when he first stepped in, scraping his fingernails lightly against the inside only for the soft velvet to completely muffled any sound, and once was enough to decide it wasn’t for him. It was a matter of familiarity, he wagered, rather than luxury or comfort, and he realized with an exasperated huff that he would not likely get a good, sound sleep in a coffin that wasn’t pervaded by the haunting scent of Walter, miraculously preserved despite the decades. It could have been a case of phantom memory created by a disturbed mind, and Joachim found it more preferable than the jarring suspicion that all these years he’d been unconsciously lulled to sleep by the bastard’s lingering presence.

Never mind. He didn’t have plenty of shuteye back home anyway; when he did crawl into the coffin and pull the lid over his head, it was more often out of exhaustion than a normal, healthy routine. Being coddled by the eternal darkness had its ups and downs: while Joachim and his few fledglings never had to fear the fiery kiss of the sun, their systems were also unable to distinguish day from night, messed up to the point they went on for days without sleep, even weeks with the younger ones, until not even the warmest blood could replenish their depleted energy and finally, they answered the desperate beckon of their coffin. Briefly he wondered if the two humans here had a similar problem: had their routine experienced a drastic change to adapt to their vampire peers’ lifestyle or had it stayed the same, nocturnal since even before their residence in this castle?

When Joachim couldn’t sleep, he roamed the castle like a ghost, silent and pale, with his feet above the floor, casting no shadow on the sleek granite surface since the corridors were nearly pitch-black with all the thick curtains shut. Castlevania during the day was an entirely different creature than it was after sunset: torches and candles had been put out, the vampires had locked themselves in their ornamented coffins, and the vast halls and long corridors were ceded to the powerful reign of silence. “The day, when allowed to set foot in here, would be a far more compelling master of the castle than I am,” Walter had told him once upon a time, when his sire had expressed his favoritism by cuddling with Joachim in an enormous coffin instead of tossing him into the water dungeon with nary a thought. “Why?” the young, naive and generally stupid Joachim had asked, and Walter had replied, “Because I could never impose silence on all of you at once, could I? There will always be one of you to voice your mind, testing how far you could push my limits and get away with it.”

Never had it crossed Joachim’s head that Walter’s seemingly harmless remark had foreshadowed what was to come.

Joachim stopped dead in his track. When he roamed, he usually didn’t give a fig about where his body floated — that was the whole point of roaming, wasn’t it? Still, the thing about roaming was his mind roamed as well, and left unchecked, it tended to relapse into the habit of unearthing his memories of Walter, both good and terrible, indiscriminately buried yet never quite dead, and for the love of all things unholy, Joachim did not wish to be reminded of how addictive it had been when Walter’s fingers stroked his hair. He needed a distraction, something to steer his stray thoughts away from that fiery red hair and shit-eating grin he’d loved and loathed in equal measure. His most likely candidate emerged in the form of olive skin and silver waves, with eyes that brought to his mind the sight of sparking seawater he had only ever seen in paintings. His body moved on its own accord, sparing him no time to consider the likeliness of Hector being deep in his sleep.

Not until Joachim was at his own door did the thought finally catch up with him. Mumbling a particularly obscene curse under his breath, he reconsidered his options. He could either continue his aimless exploration of Castlevania and try (but mostly fail) to banish Walter-shaped thoughts or pay Dracula plus his half-full bottle a visit and spend the few next hours until sunset brooding alongside a moody statue in his dimly lit study. Besides, that was based on the rickety assumption that Dracula was awake and welcomed his company, which Joachim doubted the vampire lord would given the lukewarm greeting he’d received. Neither option was appealing and Joachim let out a frustrated sigh, half-ready to give up and retreat to his coffin for a sleepless day. Still, a small part in him willfully clung to hope and he floated a little closer, ears strained for Hector’s steady heartbeats.

The lack of the indication of a heart threw Joachim off. For a moment he thought his sense had deceived him, but it was quickly proven wrong as he listened to the cacophony of Hector’s pets just fine, even able to discern what sort of animal each was (he had that many?), and thus arrived at the conclusion that Hector wasn’t in his living quarters.

What could he be doing in the middle of the day? Getting some sun in his skin?

“Oh, you again,” Joachim said, tilting his head at the quirky little thing trying to jump his leg in vain. He picked the mutt up, keeping him at a safe distance from his face. “Where, oh, where is your master?” he sing-sang.

Cezar panted and craned his short neck, determined to smear his saliva on the vampire’s cheek but to no avail, and so he settled for Joachim’s fingers instead.

Startled, Joachim dropped Cezar but his quick reflex saved the naughty pup from a potential lethal fate. Part of him wanted to test his earlier theory about reanimated animals, but he didn’t think it wise to risk the human’s rage in this early stage of seduction. Gently he lowered Cezar to the ground and said, “Take me to your master.”

Somehow his order got through Cezar’s dead brain and he wagged his stump, racing down the corridor in a blur.

Joachim didn’t expect the pup to lead him to the kitchen, where he hadn’t thought to pay a visit due to his lack of culinary interest. The closer he got, the clearer Hector’s heartbeats became, as did the tantalizing scent of his blood. Fortunately he had fed beforehand, which made it easier to resist the temptation.

Joachim leaned against the wooden frame of the entrance, watching Cezar run in and butt his head against Hector’s calf in lieu of greeting. Hector wiped his hand on a clean-looking cloth on the table and bended over to pick the pup up. That was when he caught sight of Joachim’s boots and straightened himself to look at the vampire floating at the door with terribly disguised confusion written all over his face. “What are you doing here?” he asked, blinking slowly.

Joachim didn’t think a bewildered look could be quite endearing. “You are really careless,” he remarked, gray, cold gaze unabashedly raking over the column of Hector’s neck, exposed by the low collar of his simple cotton shirt.

“Excuse me?”

Arching an eyebrow, Joachim gestured to his own neck. “The armor is specifically for protection against vampire teeth, but you have taken it off.”

Hector scoffed, putting Cezar down so that the pup could play in a corner. “Have you ever seen anyone wear an armor in the kitchen?” he said. “Moreover, I didn’t think there would be any vampire wandering the castle in the early afternoon.”

“Well, here I am, and I did warn you about me, did I not?”

“If you truly wanted my neck, I doubt a piece of armor would be enough to deter you.”

Joachim shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing. “What are you doing here, Hector? I was under the impression that you should be in bed at this hour, catching the sleep you will not have at night because work, work, work.”

“I don’t need a lot of sleep and the hours in the morning is sufficient,” he replied, washing his hands under a faucet — one of Dracula’s invention that spewed water from a copper mouth when a lever was turned. “So I figured I could use the spare time to do something. And you? Shouldn’t you be in your-your—”

“Coffin,” Joachim filled in for him, mildly distracted by the sound of running water. “Yes, vampires sleep in a coffin, and it is a known fact. However, I have been avoiding mine since I arrived here.”

“Why? If you don’t mind my asking.”

“You know how humans often complain about being unable to sleep in a strange bed, and in my case it is a strange coffin.”

To his surprise, Hector chuckled, his shoulders shaking lightly under the thin white fabric. “I didn’t know vampires could be insomniac,” he said. “That’s new information. Since you’ve already come here, why not try something to while away the time?”

Hector pointed to what looked like piece of dough lying on top of a thin sheet dusted with white flour.

“What is it?” Joachim asked, gliding over for a better look. It was indeed a piece of dough. He intended to poke it with a finger but was stopped by Hector. “You must wash your hands first,” he told him. “I want to make some buns out of it later.”

Joachim glanced at the faucet and smiled. “Would you mind filling a basin for me? I am afraid I cannot put my hands directly under the faucet.”

“Really?” Hector was having a dubious look but he obliged him anyway. “Why is that?”

“Vampires cannot touch running water,” Joachim explained, slowly dipping a hand in the basin, testing. “Surely you have heard about it.”

“Actually, no. There’re many things I haven’t grasped about vampire culture and habits. What happened if you did?”

“It is not unlike when you put your hands in boiling oil. My skin would peel off like a glove.”

Hector visibly winced. “Sounds horrible.”

“There, I have just exposed one of my weaknesses to you,” Joachim said. “Exploit it to your heart’s content.”

Hector moved to the table and started working the dough. “Why would I do that?”

So naive, Joachim thought, where had Dracula snatched such a rare creature?

“To escape from my death grip in case I jump you, perhaps?”

“And splashing water on a vampire’s face will force him to release me?”

“You would be surprised how devastatingly effective it could be.”

“Yes, suppose I was quick enough, which I’m not, to be honest. Thanks for the advice anyway.”

“You said you would have some buns later. Is that what you are doing? Baking?”

Joachim could name a dozen pastimes he thought a necromancer would enjoy, and none of them involved bakery.

“The buns are byproducts, really. What I’m doing is just, this.”

Joachim’s gaze followed the movements of his hands. “Kneading?”

“Yes, I find it relaxing, so when the world becomes too much, all the sights and smells and noises, I make a piece of dough and start kneading it. It calms my nerves. Plus, I have some buns or bread to eat later.”

Joachim could relate to that overwhelming feeling, though his coping method had nothing to do with baking and much to do with piercing a few bodies. “Now I see why cats are fond of that.”

Hector scoffed. “I thought you were more of a dog person, or, vampire?”

“I never had cats but watching those predators can be quite... educational and entertaining.”

“Would you like to try?” Hector suggested. “It’s so simple even a child can do it.”

Joachim floated over to the table and stabbed a neat, round hole in the dough with his finger. “Taunting me, aren’t you?”

“Maybe less poking and more pressing and squeezing... gently with your fingers, like you’re messaging, er, someone’s shoulders.”

Joachim burst into laughter, grabbing Hector’s hand. “Like this?” he teased, giving the human’s hand the lightest squeeze and feeling satisfied with a jump of his heart.

“Yeah, uhm, like that,” Hector replied, his gaze landing on Joachim’s hand, paler than the dough itself. “Ar-Are your nails always like this?”

Joachim released Hector and started kneading the dough with semi-seriousness. “Black? No, they were not black when I was turned. Nor was my hair silver.”

“I assumed vampires were incapable of changing. Apparently that was wrong.”

The dough yielded in his hands, soft and pliable and easily molded into whatever shape he wanted, not too different than a piece of clay. Joachim could understand how such simple act could reduce stress and help one unwind; still, understanding was one thing and actually feeling its effects was another.

“Not completely. It is true that vampires do not change; however, we are not unsusceptible to changes. Quite a paradox, is it not?”

Look how grief had changed the once-arrogant and mighty Dracula.

“What caused these changes of yours?”

Joachim’s hands ceased their motion and he squinted his eyes at his shapeless ‘sculpture’. “Malnutrition,” he said breezily, washing his hands in the basin and drying them. He then summoned a chair over and sat down with his legs crossed.

Hector watched him with a raised eyebrow. “Bored already?” he asked over his shoulders, resuming his task.

“The wonderful relaxing effect of kneading might have been lost on me,” Joachim replied, propping his arm to support his head. “You do not want to know about the malnutrition?”

“Oh, I’m curious, but somehow I have a feeling it’s a private story you may not want to share.”

“Long and boring, yes but private, not so much. Still, I prefer listening to you to hearing my own rant. You have a mesmerizing voice, Hector.”

Hector was having his back to him so Joachim couldn’t see his expression, but it took the human a while to reply. “You won’t ask me to serenade you, right, because you will no longer think my voice pleasant once you hear my singing.”

Joachim chuckled. “No, but I would love to hear you speak.”

“About what?”

“Anything.”

Another long moment followed. “I can recite _The Illiad_ , if you’d like to listen.”

_Oh._

“You memorized it all? In Greek?”

“It was the only book I was allowed throughout my childhood, so I read it again and again, until I sort of learned it by heart.”

“Then, please.”

...

Joachim was sure he must have dozed off somewhere along the line because there was a fresh blank in his memory he was unable to fill in with any recent events from the beginning of _The Illiad_ to the part where Achilles slayed Hector. That and the real-life Hector’s expression which clearly spelled how hard he was trying to stifle his laugh.

“Now who’s the careless one?” he asked in airy tone, putting on a pair of mitts and going to the oven. “I could have staked you.”

A warm, buttery scent wafted in front the vampire’s nose. “With what? Freshly baked buns?”

“Maybe,” Hector replied, setting a steamy tray on the table, already clean with the flour and the rolling pin put away. There were a dozen baby-fist-sized buns on the tray, baked to a perfect golden brown and giving off an appetizing aroma. “You must have been exhausted to drift off like that. That’s also new to me. I thought vampires would fall into a corpse-like state when they slumber, not just falling asleep like you did. Like most humans do, actually.”

Joachim smiled, though it was pinched. Had he really been that careless in Hector’s company, lulled into a sense of security by the boy’s naivety?

“All thanks to your voice.”

Hector’s smile was much more genuine than his, and it brightened up the windowless kitchen in a way the artificial lamps on the wall never could. “I’ll try to be positive and take that as a compliment, not sarcasm,” said Hector.

“It was a compliment. Sarcasm meanders around when I snooze and takes some time to find its way back.”

Hector didn’t look like he totally bought it but he didn’t press the matter. “You’re a strange vampire, Joachim Armster.”

“So I have been told.”

“Can vampires digest food? I’ve seen Lord Dracula partake wine once but I’m not sure about food.”

“I am afraid the nutritional values are all lost on my system. Flavors, however, are always a delight.”

“Would you like one?”

The bun felt soft and warm on Joachim’s cold palm and he couldn’t help squeezing it a little just to tease Hector, who indeed was sporting a comical look. He took a measured bite, flashing his fangs at the Forgemaster. He chewed slowly to savor the light sweetness of sugar, butter and cinnamon blended together in his mouth. It had been so long since he ate something sweet, so long Joachim had almost forgotten how the sweetness from sugar and honey differed from the sweetness of fresh blood. “It was good,” he complimented once he’d finished and saw the light dance in Hector’s irises. “Thank you.”

“You can take some more if you like,” Hector offered, cheeks dusted with pink.

And so, Joachim returned to his room with a handful of freshly baked buns to munch on as he lied on top of his coffin and rewound _The Illiad_ recited by a certain Forgemaster’s voice in his head.

Not once had his thoughts creeped to Walter.

_To be continued_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I headcanoned Hector as being Greek.  
> \---  
> Thank you for all the kudos and comments. I really appreciate them. They keep me motivated to continue this story.


	6. Chapter 6

Joachim crossed his legs, threw a playful wink at Dracula when the vampire lord arched an eyebrow in the mildest expression of amusement, and watched the bottle filling his goblet.

Dracula hadn’t uttered a word of disapproval, so Joachim had gone ahead and helped himself to this decades-old vintage which he had developed a taste for.

Perhaps after this trip, he would start making use of Walter’s massive old cellar. The young ones would appreciate it, no doubt.

“If I were you,” Joachim began, gently swirling the goblet in his hand, “Carmilla would be short of a head now.” He took a small sip, allowing the taste to soak through the inside of his mouth. If there was one thing he was eternally grateful for, it was that vampirism had not robbed him off his ability to savor anything other than blood. “Along with a couple limbs.”

“You sound much similar to Walter Bernhard, his true protégé,” Dracula said flatly. “There is a perfect armchair over there in case you have grown tired of being groundless.”

“Perhaps I have enjoyed the flighty feeling too much to settle down. I could, however, if it puts the mighty Dracula at ease to have a face-to-face conversation.”

“You seems to be in a jovial mood today while you usually throws a fit whenever the red-haired devil is mentioned. Has something happened?”

Joachim briefly recalled how the steamy, soft flesh of the buns had yielded to his teeth. His tongue tasted the earthly sweetness of honey and spices despite the dryness of the wine. “Make no mistake, Dracula,” he said, licking his fangs. “My blood still boils at the mere breath of his name. Nevertheless, I have to admit, albeit grudgingly, the damned bastard’s way has proven effective in maintaining order in my court.”

“Oh? If any poor soul so much as raises their voice in your court, you will tear them limb from limb, or worse, throw them into a dungeon surrounded by waterfalls?”

Joachim scoffed but didn’t rise to his taunt. “That depends on whether they mean to contribute to our collective benefits or shake my authority, which is exactly what Carmilla did a few hours ago.”

He saw Dracula’s frame exhibit the tiniest movement as if he was heaving a worn sigh. “Were you not the one who had inspired her to challenge the authority and seize the rein?”

“Not when said authority was mine,” Joachim said, downing his goblet. He idly tapped his nails against his palm in waiting for his goblet to be refilled. “Ask yourself this question, Dracula, were Carmilla a male vampire, say Godbrand for instance, would her head have already been rolling on the floor the moment she started spouting insults to your wife? Instead she got what? A perfunctory scolding in private.”

“Are you implying that I am an impotent ruler, Joachim?”

His out-of-character drawl sounded almost uncaring despite the obvious edges, hinting at his callous tactician persona. Oh, what Joachim wouldn’t give for more than a glimpse before Dracula reverted to the world-weary vampire sovereign he had come to mildly despise. “I am pointing out your unbalanced treatment towards your generals. If I had not known better, I might have suspected a clandestine affair between you and her.”

That prompted a surprising snort from Dracula. “What about _your_ unbalanced treatment towards my generals?”

Joachim smiled against the gold-plated rim of his goblet. So he had observed, which meant he was not as utterly void as he seemed. “Am I hearing any complaints?” Joachim asked, leaning back slightly the way he would in a chair if he was sitting on one. “As far as I can tell, the subject of my attention has not deemed it a harassment.”

“He has not so far,” Dracula confirmed. “Still, I should remind you not to cross the line and maltreat the boy.”

“It depends on where the line is drawn and I surmise that he can take more than you have given him credit for.” A beat. “That aside, we are not here to discuss the banal subject of your generals’ treatment, are we? Forgive me. I was overwhelmed with joy upon receiving your summon that I did not stop to fathom the reason.”

“I do not think your penchant for drama will ever cease to amaze me. I have a favor to ask of you.”

“I just _love_ it when you get straight to the point,” Joachim replied with a hint of sarcasm.

“You do not love, Joachim. That much I know.”

Joachim shrugged. “So, what is it that the great Dracula needs my hand for? My expertise lies in decapitating and pulverizing, just a friendly reminder.”

“Isaac reported that one of his creatures had returned, mortally wounded. A horde had been sent to the area that is only a few miles from Gresit, and Gresit is where I last heard of Adrian.”

“Adrian?”

Adrian in Joachim’s memory was a shy, tiny bat who had hidden behind his father’s cloak and yet had sneaked a peek at the floating stranger every now and then out of curiosity. Although he wasn’t particularly fond of children, vampire blood notwithstanding, Joachim surprised even himself with an unexpected sliver of warmth at the mention of his name.

“Ah, the little tail that attached to my backside and were constantly nagging me about my swords during my extended stay hundreds moons ago. Not so little now, I suppose, which begs the question why I have not seen him here, leading the vanguard to avenge his mother.”

For the first time since his arrival, Joachim had detected the wavering in Dracula’s voice. “He... had vehemently opposed to the extinction of humanity and in my blind rage I almost killed him,” he confessed, sounding inhumanly exhausted.

Joachim withheld his immediate response out of courtesy rather than the lack of one. He could be courteous when it needed — the savage years in the dungeon had mercifully not robbed him of his high upbringing — and right now a moment of silence was in order.

“Which one of us is Walter’s true protégé now?” he asked once the moment had passed, his tone casual yet biting, and punctuated with a barely-there curve of his thin lips.

Dracula got no response to that as he contemplated the flame in the fireplace with unmoving eyes, seemingly entranced by its writhing motion. Meanwhile Joachim took pleasure in studying the shadows morphing and dancing on his face, twisting his features and in a blink-and-you-miss-it Walter was there, sitting in his lone throne and brooding about the next escapade to alleviate his pathological ennui. It was astonishing how much of Walter had retained in Dracula, and Joachim never doubted he had tried but they both knew there was no ridding of the bastard’s residues from their lives.

Time seemed to pass differently when one was lost in thoughts, because it felt like an hour had gone by whereas it might been just a few seconds. “Adrian wasn’t alone,” Dracula said. “There is clear evidence suggesting that he was with a Belmont plus a magician and it appears they were working together.”

“A Belmont and a vampire together, how iconic,” Joachim exclaimed, gripping the stem of his goblet in a rush of exhilaration. “The last time I heard, the Belmonts had been no more, but I suppose both you and I and the rest of the vampire race would be eradicated first before his bloodline was truly extinct.”

“That is the favor I want to ask. I need not the Belmont and the magician to interfere in our final confrontation.”

“Keeping it a family business,” Joachim commented. “You are asking me to risk my own life. I think some reconsideration is in order.”

“We both know for certain nothing in the Belmont’s blessed arsenal would ever harm you thanks to Leon’s blood in your veins.”

“There are more ways to kill a vampire than a blessed weapon. A mundane wooden stake would do.”

“You would not allow a mundane wooden stake to be your end, would you, after all you have been through?”

Joachim chuckled dryly. “I am flattered you hold me in such high regards but this is a Belmont we are talking about. The other end of my deal with Leon ensures that I will never harm his blood.”

“I ask you to keep them from intervening, not kill them. You are the only vampire I trust is capable of such.”

“In other words, since you are here, make yourself useful,” Joachim concluded, throwing his head back, laughing. The bottle and mostly empty goblet vibrated under his influence.

“Consider it a compensation for stealing one of my prized generals.”

Joachim’s cackles died out but their after-effect lingered in his tone. “I agree on one condition that you tell me about your deal with Hector, how you pulled such a soft creature into your sway, so that I can steer clear of any blunders.”

Joachim wasn’t entirely confident his demand would be met, and if it indeed wouldn’t, he would see it as a mild hindrance than a huge loss on his part; all he needed was some alterations to his strategy.

“Fine,” came Dracula’s breathy reply and that was it. Only now did it occur to Joachim what Dracula had desperately needed was an outlet to release some of his darkness — not a confidant whom he entrusted his secrets but a bottomless well that wouldn’t echo it back at him. There was so much a vampire could stomach before it devoured him from the inside, and who would be better up for the job than a fellow creature of the night whose darkness rivaled his own?

And so Joachim poured himself some more wine and did what he didn’t mind once in a while: he listened.

“Now I know what _not_ to do with Hector,” he remarked at the end of their discussion — was it? The bottle was drained and its dry taste had fanned a different kind of thirst in the vampire’s throat. “Our deal stands, as a token of my gratitude. You have my word.”

He then made to ‘stand’, twirling his forefinger to return the bottle and goblet to the shelf.

“Good to know there is one vampire’s word I can put some trust in.”

Joachim gave no reply as he floated to the door, a faint smile curling his lips.

_To be continued_


End file.
